Her First Words
by The Demon Writer Of Fleet St
Summary: A short little random thing I decided to write...Sweeney's thinking too much about his past again, wishing that everything could change. How he misses Lucy and Johanna...If only things could be the way they used to be...


**All right…my first Sweeney Todd Fanfic…I've been Rping this subject for a while now, but never had inspiration for writing a fanfiction on my favorite musical…so, after reading a few other short and sweet Sweeney stories, I decided, "Ah, what the heck…Let's see what I can do!" I just sat down and started typing this…if it sucks or has been written already, I apologize to the ends of the Earth…I just love Sweeney Todd too much to pass up any opportunity to write about him. Now, enough of my blabbing…enjoy! ;**

"_Da!" The voice could barely be heard through the adult's conversation, the young child's smile lighting up the room. The couple stopped dead in their gentle flow of words, turning abruptly to the carriage beside them. The man looked down into it, face full of shock, eyes bright with happiness. The woman stood close beside him as he picked up the small, blonde-haired child. He cradled the baby close, a smile lighting up his own face._

"_Y-you called for me, love?" He whispered, his wife covering her mouth with her hand. He glanced down at her, and she up at him. Both exchanged wide grins before looking down at their child. The blonde girl waved one of her fists in the air as her mother took it in her own hand._

"_You know your father, don't you, Jo…?" Lucy whispered, her thumb gently stroking her child's minute hand. She glanced up at her husband, still smiling. "Her first words…they're of you…" Benjamin nodded once, his free hand tracing over baby Johanna's cheek as he hummed softly, his wife beside him as an ordinary London day went on._

It hurt too much, he realized, slumped in the familiar barber chair, face even more apathetic than usual. Sweeney realized how much it hurt to think about such absurd things…things of the past. Things that Mrs. Lovett would say didn't matter anymore; you must forgive and forget. But that was the exact thing Sweeney hated about the woman. She didn't understand.

He stood slowly, eyes hardened and narrowing as he stared out at London through the dirty tonsorial parlor windows. His hands were clenched together behind his back as he fought against his drifting mind.

"Her first words…they're of you…" 

Sweeney's eyes shut tight in pain, face strewn with the longing for the past. He remained still for a long while, standing in front of the large window, a smile crossing his face only once before it fell back into misery.

"Alrigh', Mr. T, I've brought you some food," Mrs. Lovett opened the door slowly, knocking as it rested against the wall. She tilted her head, carting the tray over to its typical table. She set it down silently, eyebrows creasing at the sight of the barber, her feet slowly making her way over to him. She stood beside him for a long while, realizing his eyes were tight shut, face contorted in agony. "Mr. T…?" She whispered, gently touching his arm. He inhaled sharply, shrinking away from her slightly. Mrs. Lovett's eyes widened in surprise as she also backed up.

"I-I'm sorry, love…I just wanted to check up on ya…" She said, startled. It seemed to take Sweeney much longer to realize her presence, Mrs. Lovett noted. His eyes didn't seem to truly take her in until the rest of his face regained its apathy.

"I see…" He muttered, hands still tense behind his back as he turned to glance out the window again. Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, turning away. She sighed silently before reaching the door, moving to close it.

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney turned his head a fraction of an inch towards the door, eyes still focused outside the window, "how many happy memories do you have?" His face seemed confused, blank, and lost. Sweeney really had no logic as to why he had asked such an odd question, but he felt like he had to. Mrs. Lovett walked back to the barber, head tilted.

"Well, I 'ave many…There was a time me an' Albert went t' the sea…he didn't seem to like the seagulls much," She smiled wistfully, continuing, "An' a few of the dinner rushes are entertainin'…when I'm not bein' overworked," She added. Mrs. Lovett paused, unable to bite her tongue. "A-and o' course, I-I enjoy bringin' you your food everyday…" She mentally slapped herself, making sure she stopped talking. Sweeney seemed more confused than ever as he continued to stare out the window.

"Why do you enjoy delivering me food…?" He asked bluntly, his voice flat. She flushed, staring at the ground, wondering how clueless one man could be.

"Oh, it's just…nice to see you once in a while, Mr. T…" She whispered, Sweeney's gaze ever so slightly facing her. Silence filled the tonsorial parlor, Mrs. Lovett's heartbeat quickening with each awkward passing moment. She cleared her dry throat before smiling up at him. "W-well then, I've gotta go start on the dinner rush. I'll stop by a bit later, Mr. T." She said before departing. Sweeney nodded once after she had already left, face turning back to the window.

The barber inhaled deeply, unclenching his hands from behind his back as he slowly walked over to his chair, sitting in it stiffly after a moment. His eyes grew glazed over with pain again, mind trapped in his memories. He heard the crowds below grow and grow, but none came up the stairs for a shave that night. He contemplated this for a long while, wondering if it was because no one needed one, or because fate was forcing him to wallow in his past.

As the stars multiplied, Sweeney finally sat up, walking across the floor to the small table of knick-knacks in his room. Mrs. Lovett had not come up again as she had promised, giving more time for the barber to think…something he did too much. He hesitated before reaching a white hand down to pick up the frame that held his most precious people in the world…

His thumb traced over the picture of Lucy as he stood before the window again, glancing down at the beautiful woman he loved. He smiled faintly at the picture of young Johanna, eyes staring out the window for a split second as a shooting star sped past his blank gaze.

"Her first words…they're of you…" 

"My only wish is to speak to her one day…" Sweeney whispered, setting the picture down with another fond glance before staring out into the night sky.

**All right, all right. I think it sucks…how about you, Reviewers? Lemme know! **


End file.
